


Perfect Twins

by shipcestuous (x4ashes4ashes)



Category: High School Musical (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Incest, Sibling Incest, Twincest, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-20
Updated: 2012-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-29 20:18:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/x4ashes4ashes/pseuds/shipcestuous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan misses Sharpay during his first week at Julliard. Too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Twins

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

His parents were on business in Asia for the entire month – they were gone often, but this a longer trip than usual. They wanted to be there for his orientation week at Julliard, but they couldn’t get away. Not even his mother. He wasn’t angry at them, but he was nervous; he wished they were there. And Sharpay, of course…  
That Sharpay hadn’t come was a given: while she was genuinely happy that he had been recognized for his talent, to say that she was bitter about the whole situation was a comical understatement. To her credit, she had done her best to hide any negative emotions, which was more than he had expected from her. She spent the entire summer feigning a blissful ignorance, a good-natured indifference. But as the day of his departure approached, as the summer ended, some of what was festering underneath bubbled to the surface. Not in her words, but in her eyes. In her bearing. In the way that she played with her food instead of eating it, and stared off into the distance vacantly.  
Their goodbyes at the airport – just the two of them - had been strained. He wasn’t sure if it was because of her jealousy or resentment, or simply the awkwardness of parting from someone you’ve never been a part from.  
She kissed him goodbye on the lips.  
It was all he could think about.

“Ryan!” Kelsi called out.  
He wasn’t entirely alone at Julliard: Kelsi was there too, of course. Her family, being poor, couldn’t afford to all fly out to New York, so she was moving in all by herself, like him. They were in the same boat. Just like they were in the same residence hall. And had been on the same plane.  
He didn’t notice that they had been on the same plane until the baggage claim. She waved to him timidly after calling his name and then made her way over. “Big day,” she said, with a wide smile. He liked Kelsi. He liked her music. He had enjoyed taking her to prom. But a part of him couldn’t help but feel that she had taken Sharpay’s place at Juilliard. It didn’t even make sense: they had different areas of expertise. But still: Kelsi was there, Sharpay wasn’t.  
His immediate concern was whether or not she had seen the kiss. Had it looked innocent from a distance? No, that’s not what he meant: it had been innocent – had it looked otherwise from a distance? “I didn’t see you at the airport,” he said with a smile and a polite hint of regret. It might have been nice to talk to her on the plane: a distraction.  
She was still giving off an air of pleased surprise, so he supposed she hadn’t noticed him much earlier than he had noticed her.  
They took a taxi together to Juilliard, and only separated in order to unpack in their respective rooms. She was on the floor above, but near the stairs, so their dorm rooms were quite close together.  
Ryan’s roommate, Max, was studying acting. He didn’t sing or dance, so Ryan didn’t feel threatened. Sharpay’s trust-no-one and there-are-no-friends-in-show-business policies had left an imprint on her twin, but he tried to shake them off. He needed friends now more than ever.  
When Kelsi came to find him, he was showing Max some pictures from high school on his laptop.  
Kelsi caught the tail end of Max’s monologue on the “quaintness” of Albuquerque and the lack of originality that had been exercised in naming their high school. She laughed, and tried to ease herself into the conversation, while thinking to herself that New Yorkers and Angelinos were very irritating in their self-importance.  
Ryan introduced the two of them cursorily and then turned back to his screen. He was sitting at his desk, the computer in front of him (inches from his face), and Max behind.  
“You’ve only been here for two hours and you’re already looking back,” Kelsi teased, laughing.  
Ryan didn’t laugh but he mustered the strength for a smile for her benefit.  
A photo of him and the Wildcat crew pixilated into one of him and Sharpay from the first day of senior year.  
“Who’s that?” Max asked, peeking sideways at Kelsi, whom he had quickly inferred to be romantically involved with his new roommate, especially after having seen a photo of the two of them from prom a couple of slides earlier.  
“My sister, Sharpay,” Ryan answered, admiration heavy in his voice, followed by an edge of affliction.  
“Are the two of you…dressed to match?” Max asked, quickly moving on from his skepticism at Sharpay’s name (Was that a nickname? That had to be a nickname!), his tone a cross between incredulous, amused, and critical, and his eyebrows sky high.  
Kelsi snickered, and then quickly covered her mouth.  
“Yes,” Ryan answered, nostalgic, and totally oblivious to the mockery emanating from those behind him.  
His brown slacks, brown hat, and green and brown striped sweater over a white button-up shirt complemented Sharpay’s white leggings and blue dress with green trim almost perfectly. The photo snapped hurriedly before they headed in to class could have passed for professional with a higher resolution: Sharpay knew how to smile for the cameras. Although, in this photo, she was smiling warmly at Ryan. No wonder Max had asked who she was: as Ryan examined the photo more closely, he noticed that the way his arm rested around her waist, and the way she was pressed against his side looking up at him belied an attachment other than fraternal.  
“I always wondered about that,” Kelsi murmured. She bit her lip, hoping she didn’t sound as if she were taunting him. Max smiled at her, knowing they were in on a joke. “Did you plan it out every morning?”  
It wasn’t every morning, of course. Not even close. Though even when their outfits weren’t complementary or parallel, what color or pattern they did happen to share on that particular day almost inevitably stood out and united them visually, supported by their blond hair and impeccable his and hers statures. That’s why they did so well on the stage together: there was just something so together about them. People were always delighted to find out they were twins – they were the twins every woman dreamed of having. They exemplified the concept.  
A couple of memories of Sharpay half-dressed appearing in his doorframe flew to mind: “Soft and chartreuse today, Ry,” she’d mumble sleepily before wandering back into her room.  
Sometimes he’d go downstairs and eat breakfast, or shower, and then come back to find an outfit laid out on his bed. She knew his closet almost as well as she knew hers. Of course, his was a lot smaller.  
“It was Sharpay’s idea. She chose for me, shopped with me.”  
Or it was an accident – such a thing had come to pass more than once. Twins!  
What would she wear tomorrow? Would they dress similarly by coincidence? They wouldn’t see each other so they wouldn’t even know it if they did. The thought made him desperately sad and he sought vainly for a way to change the subject and get his mind on something else.  
“Your sister dressed you?” Max followed up, his eyebrows so high the muscles were going to be sore.  
“I’d always kind of figured that your mother started when you were babies, and then just never stopped,” Kelsi said with a sly smile at Max.  
“Sharpay has an impeccable fashion sense,” Ryan asserted, but without being defensive. Wrapped up in his memories, he was immune to Kelsi and Max’s opinions on the subject.  
“She wears designer flip-flops,” Kelsi added. Whatever Sharpay did, that would always be the worst thing.  
“Jimmy Choos,” Ryan said with a nod. He moaned a little in protest as the picture changed into one from the championship basketball game  
“Any chance she’ll be coming to visit?” Max asked, hopeful, admiring his roommate’s sister’s beauty.  
Kelsi tried to hide her horror at the prospect.  
“Almost none,” Ryan replied. “She wanted to get in here, but she didn’t.”  
“Oh.”  
“She’s amazing: I’m still not sure why.”  
“You’re amazing,” Kelsi assured, putting her hand on his shoulder. Kelsi stood behind what she had said to Ryan to comfort him over the summer: “Sharpay doesn’t need Julliard. She’ll make it on her own – that’s just who she is.” Whether Sharpay deserved success or not was a whole other issue.  
He felt he should return the compliment, but it just wasn’t in him at the moment. He did it anyway: “Well, we all know why you’re here. That makes perfect sense.”  
She blushed.  
He wished both she and Max would go away for a while so that he could look at his pictures alone.

The woman next to him on the plane had asked if he was a nervous flyer. He was taken aback: having flown around the world a number of times, he was certainly used to airplanes. Then he realized that his hands were gripping the armrests so tightly that his knuckles were white, and continuous attention was required of him to keep his breathing regular. And he felt like he was going to throw up. She’d picked up on all of these things, and jumped to the natural conclusion.  
Only flying wasn’t his problem.  
And he hadn’t been thinking about the kiss, not then. All he could think about was the distance growing between him and his sister by the second. Every second, taking him further away…And not just for a vacation.  
He did not anticipate that he would have a minor anxiety attack, but that’s exactly what happened.  
He was glad Kelsi hadn’t seen that either.  
The woman next to him was very nice. She patted him on the shoulder and got some ice water for him.  
It didn’t quite do the trick, but he felt a little bit better by the time the plane landed. After all, it wasn’t like she was dead. He’d be home for Thanksgiving at the latest, and it wasn’t like she never came to New York.  
She loved New York.  
But Thanksgiving was three months away…It was too long. Longer than he thought he could handle. Looking at her picture reminded him of this. It had been almost all day since he’d seen her last. He wondered what she was wearing now. He tried to guess what she was wearing, and then wanted to change so that he might match it.

Ryan shut down his computer after Max reminded them of the time. Kelsi’s arms were full of brochures and orientation literature: she knew their schedule for the week by heart, and informed them that it was time for dinner. Ryan’s heart wasn’t in it yet; in fact, what he couldn’t wait for was bedtime so that he could be alone in the dark to think. To swim around in the memory. To relive it over and over again.  
Kelsi had called him on his far-off looks and moroseness twice before he managed to pep himself up enough to fool her. He didn’t want her to ask why he was so down. She couldn’t understand: she’d left her family behind, but he’d left a part of himself. He was coming to understand this more and more as the day wore on.  
His parents called later that night. He reassured them that he was well and he was getting settled in. Their voices made him homesick.  
He stared at his phone.

She didn’t move into the kiss from a hug, which might have been a more natural progression. They were actually standing further apart than they normally did, for some reason. She was far less talkative than usual, and in fact seemed reluctant to say much of anything at all to him.  
Then she took a graceful step towards him, almost like a ballet move, putting all of her weight on her forward foot, her other one resting on its toes, providing balance. And then she popped up and landed her lips deftly on his. (The fact that she was wearing flats was a good indicator of her dejected emotional and mental state.) Although he was so surprised as to be flustered, he managed to receive the kiss smoothly. It was remarkably harmonious for a first kiss, particularly between two people so unlikely to be doing such a thing: there was no confusion about where her mouth was headed, no smacking of noses or bumping of chins. It was as if she instinctually knew exactly how to go about it.  
To be sure there was no tongue, but his bottom lip slipped comfortably into a space between hers. He couldn’t be certain how long it lasted: his perception of time was not reliable. It felt like an eternity. Timeless. She closed her eyes, though this seemed to be more from the pain felt at his leaving than the pleasure of their intimate moment. She leaned up and into him as if she was going to press her forehead against his, but she either aborted or had never intended to do such a thing. Instead she used the leverage her new height provided to break off the kiss from a position of power, taking his lip with her for a second. She fell back on her rear foot, and seemed to sigh though it was more of a deep inhale, and crossed her arms. Her cinnamon eyes opened again slowly to his blue ones. He played it cool: just a kiss. Just a goodbye kiss. Like a goodbye hug, only with more saliva.  
He found nothing on her face but what he had found there before the kiss. Nothing to indicate to him what she was thinking or feeling. He was burning with the fire of a thousand suns, but her skin looked as ashen as it had all week.  
Then she sniffled. He hadn’t noticed that she was crying: she had managed to hide her weepiness up until that moment.  
They hugged, squeezing each other tightly, and then she left immediately at a brisk pace, not once looking back. He knew, because he watched her until she was out of sight.  
Because he didn’t know how long the kiss was, he didn’t know what kind of kiss it was. If it was short, it could have been nothing. But if it was as long as it felt…  
He kept his response intellectual and focused on her: Why had she kissed him? What did it mean? What had she felt? He ignored the fact that he had struggled not to sweep her into his arms, crush her in his embrace, dive into that kiss, into that mouth, into her. He tried not to remember the waves of heat on his skin, the pangs in his heart and his stomach and…so forth, even as the simple memory of the kiss brought them back.

After looking over the course catalog he started to get a little excited. So many opportunities to learn. He was gonna get the most out of this school that he could. He was gonna be the best that he could be, which hopefully would be better than most everyone else. He really did want it all. And then he would share it with her.

It wasn’t just that he missed her already.  
He did…  
But it was that he knew how long it would be until he saw her again. And then how long it would be after that. And how long after that.  
In the scheme of things – of their lives – four partial years wasn’t really that long. But when you were only 18 years old – when you had an other, who was more like a part of yourself – then even three months felt like eons.  
And it was more than time. People changed when they were apart. Divergent paths. Not everyone, not always. But it could happen. Right now, that seemed like a fate worse than death.  
He stared at his phone.  
He wanted her to be the one to call him first. He needed that from her.

By the second day he had already analyzed the academic calendar, and found the first three day weekend, in early October. He could go home then. A little over a month. That was a lot better than three months. He wouldn’t have very long, just a day or two, but he needed that to look forward to.

He kept busy with tryouts, exploring campus, and hanging out with Kelsi and Max.  
Just not quite busy enough.  
And not quite having enough fun. The company of Kelsi and Max was fine, but in the end, their tastes were different from his. There was a reason why up until Sharpay kicked him out of the summer talent show at Lava Springs he had never sought the company of others: he hadn’t needed it. He had never been lonely, or bored. Maybe annoyed from time to time, but nothing a little yoga couldn’t solve. Besides, what brother and sister didn’t drive each other up the wall every once in a while? For two people who spent nearly every waking moment together, they got on, once again, with remarkable harmony. If she wanted to be dominant in public, that was OK. In the sanctity and privacy of their home (and “home” really did mean something to Sharpay, even if that didn’t seem to be the case), they had found a balance that did not leave him wanting.  
Sharpay’s poodle. There were two sides to that image: 1) yes, he was Sharpay’s poodle, and he didn’t really mind, and 2) appearances can be deceiving. If Gabriella hadn’t been so critical, Ryan might have even defended his relationship with Sharpay. However, at the time, he had been seeking Gabriella’s acceptance. Saying something in Sharpay’s favor would not have suited that goal. And, of course, he’d been furious with her then…But not quite ready to “stray”.  
Ryan felt rebelliously outraged for a moment. She had really done a number on him: here he was at Julliard (Julliard!), living his dream, the world in his hands, with friends and excitement and any future he wanted, and all he could do was think about her, and miss her, and want to be with her (anywhere – anywhere! – as long as she was there).  
He skipped breakfast. Max and Kelsi went off without him – they were practically an item already. Ryan thought he would be jealous, but he wasn’t. Without saying anything, Kelsi had indicated that he was not giving her what she needed, and she was moving on to the next best thing. That was fine with Ryan, unfortunately. Missing Sharpay was one thing, but losing all interest in other girls was a horse of a different color.  
Taking the time to be alone in his own space, he paced. It was a dorm room, so it didn’t take very long to get from one wall to the other. He imagined a conversation with his mother. He wanted to beg her to fix him. Kiss it and make it better. Although, reconsidering, less kissing from female relatives might be exactly what the doctor ordered. He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t working out, and it was his fault, and he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to blame her for letting her kids be too close to each other. What he wanted most was for her to tell him that his dangerously, erotically codependent relationship with Sharpay wasn’t unhealthy or troubling or in need of therapeutic aid.  
After 104 hours since he had last seen or heard from her (but who’s counting?), he was at the breaking point. He’d already said “Fuck it” to worrying about the sanity of his relationship with his twin and caring about what anyone thought about it (be it their parents, a psychologist, or another East Higher). If it worked for them, if it made them happy, if it was a loving relationship and not a hurtful one, then what was the fucking problem? So what if they preferred each other’s company over everyone else’s? So what if they needed each other and didn’t want to be apart?  
Well, he knew how he felt. He still didn’t know about her…  
104 hours.  
He stared at his phone.  
And then he picked it up and was about to hit her on a speed-dial when his phone began to ring. It was her. Of course. Twins, and all that.  
His heart leapt joyfully. He answered with her name, eager.  
“Hey,” she said back quietly. “You’re not too busy to talk to your sister, are you?”  
“Of course not. I was about to call you, actually. Like, right about to call you.”  
“Really?”  
“I promise.”  
There was an awkward break in the conversation.  
“I miss you,” he confessed with such raw and brutal honesty that he almost felt naked as he said it, only to realize that she had said the exact same thing at the exact same time.  
Twins!  
They laughed, and it relieved some of the tension.  
But he wasn’t done: “I mean, I really, really miss you, Shar. I, um, I’m not sure how much longer I can take it here alone, without you.” He didn’t breathe as he waited for her response.  
And waited. And waited.  
And he was about to faint when he heard her sobs on the other end.  
“Oh, Ryan,” she cried. “I’m so lonely. I didn’t want you to go, but I didn’t want to stop you. I wanted you to have your dream.” She sniffled as if trying to regain her composure, but then she fell apart again.  
“It’s not my dream, Sharpay. It’s our dream. Being here has only made me realize how little it all means without you.”  
“Do you really mean that?” For the first time, her small, distant voice sounded hopeful.  
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.” He started pacing. “It’s not supposed to be like this. This whole thing is wrong.”  
“I didn’t get in. I wasn’t good enough.”  
“You’re good enough,” he reassured her, so confident in it that he only took a second to do so before moving on. “The new semester starts in January. You’ll just have to reapply. You’ll get in for sure this time. I’ll haunt the admissions office, singing your praises. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll talk to Dad – he can buy them a building, or something. We’ll get recommendations from Broadway’s biggest stars.”  
“But what if it doesn’t work?”  
“Then we’ll just get an apartment together, here, and you can go to a different school. Tisch, NYU, Columbia – Julliard is not the only performing arts education to be found in this city. You’re Sharpay Evans: you don’t need Julliard. This is gonna be our town, Shar: just you wait and see.”  
She laughed. “I’m hugging you!”  
“Why don’t you kiss me,” he said without thinking, his mind so full of ideas and plans that it was too busy to censor his speech. It all came to a halt: he swallowed nervously.  
“All right,” she replied softly. “I’m kissing you.”


End file.
